“Not according to him. He always said you were the best man he ever knew. He said someday, you would be the best man anyone had ever known. It was just…”
“Just what?”
“He said you just didn’t know yourself yet.” Mary frowned. “I’m sorry, Conn. It’s been a hard day. Forgive me for talking this way.”
“Nothing to forgive. You take good care.”
“I will. Thank you again. And I meant what I said. I do hope to see you again.”
“I hope so, too,” Conn said. “Otherwise, I’m dead.”
19
At noon, Conn walked over to the saloon. He saw Bill Sheffield coming from the opposite direction.
There wasn’t much of a crowd waiting for them.
In fact, it was only the burly redhead, McKay.
Conn shook his hand. “Where is everybody?”
McKay spread his hands. “Guess they lost their nerve. Or maybe their wives caught wind of what they were fixing to do. Whatever the case, it looks like it’s just the three of us.”
“Rather have three good men than twenty pretenders,” Sheffield said.
“Agreed,” Conn said. “Let’s get our horses and head over to the mercantile and stock up.”
McKay had two horses. “In case we want to swap out,” he explained.
“Good thinking,” Conn said. He would leave the paint pony for Mary but take the horses of the other two men he’d killed on the trail with them, so that he and Sheffield could do the same.
They were in and out of the store quick and ready to get on the trail.
Conn looked toward the saloon, figuring maybe some volunteers might have showed up late, but the boardwalk remained empty.
“Who we chasing first?” McKay asked.
“I reckon we’ll get after Toole and them first.”
Sheffield and McKay accepted this news with nods.
But a few seconds later, as they were riding down the street, a small voice cried out to Conn by name, calling him Mr. Sullivan.
It was the kid he’d talked to outside the doctor’s office the night before.
“What can I do for you, son?” Conn asked.
“Well, sir, I just wanted to let you know I saw Ben Blake early this morning after you pulled out of here.”
“You did?”
“Yes, sir. He rode into town on that big white horse of his. Couldn’t miss him.”
“Where is he?”
The boy shrugged. “He rode up to the boarding house and went inside and come back out a minute later with a bag over his shoulder. Guess he rounded up his stuff. That’s where he’d been staying of late.”
“And he rode back out?”
